Painter's Claw

I am mentally willing my right hand to unclench. It's locked in "painter's claw" as I have spent the better part of the week in the exercise room, painting trim. The original trim was this deep, dark orange (Don't ask. We're not the ones who did it). But it took primer and 3 coats of paint to cover it.  Some panels on the door actually took four coats. At that point I was just a madwoman, flinging white paint at anything that stood still.'s beautiful. Tonight we move the furniture back in and the room is ready for use.

It's been a good week. Wednesday night, Blair and I went to hear the Trans-Siberian orchestra with our good friends Pam and Michael. The concert started at 8 and we snuck out about 10:30, while they were still playing.

"You know you're getting old when you leave the concert early to beat the traffic," joked Blair.

"Hey, high-five on being first ones out of the parking lot! Whoo-hoo!" we chimed in.

The music was great but very LOUD. There's another sign of aging. The wish that they could tone it down, just a bit. That, and is it really necessary for us to be on our feet? Can't we all just sit down and enjoy the music? (You can see why I've never been much of a concert goer...)

It's a small world. Of the 1100 people at the concert, I bumped into my writer friend Maggie while standing in line in the ladies room. Of all the gin joints in all the world...

Today is a special day. We don't buy fish today but we ARE going into Greensboro and purchasing the tank, stand, gravel, and accruements in anticipation of setting up a happy little fish home. But's a surprise. Don't tell the cats.